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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29702001">chula</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laeana/pseuds/Laeana'>Laeana</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Biathlon RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Breaking Up &amp; Making Up, Dorks in Love, Fix-It of Sorts, Hopeful, Implied/Referenced Sex, M/M, Meeting Again, Memories, Nostalgia, Past Relationship(s), Porn with Feelings, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, unspoken feelings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 16:41:23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,237</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29702001</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laeana/pseuds/Laeana</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>" But all of a sudden, between us, I want<br/>everything to turn sweet (love) "</p><p>Walking around, Martin sees someone he hasn't saw for a while.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Johannes Thingnes Boe/Martin Fourcade</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>chula</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/simplyverstappen/gifts">simplyverstappen</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>(chula by therapie taxi)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It was quite funny to be back here. To watch those championships. Deep down, Martin felt quite nostalgic. Time hasn't passed that much, yet a sweet passion continues to burn deep within him. He liked the sport, it was time consuming. He has devoted his entire life to it until then. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Before deciding that his time had come.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He saw those who had previously been by his side stop. Deep down, he thinks he will always miss biathlon. He's thought about his decision and doesn't think he regrets it, at least not really, not that much.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He carried out some interviews, his forecast was asked of him. He continued to wander around the circuit, glancing around. He loves this sport yes, he also loves watching it, seeing what his former teammates are doing. Emilien had stars in his eyes when he saw him again and they laughed for a long time. Quentin hugged him quickly, Simon …</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Sometimes he also misses the team atmosphere and rivalry. The long debriefs, the hotel rooms next to each other, the meals all together, the conversations on various subjects and the activities between races. Or more simply, taking care of one another each after all that could happen, after anything and everything.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But to be here is also to see again those who were rivals and other nations. He's wandering around Norway’s side a little more than he should or would have liked. It's so easy for him to remember past events, to retrieve memories, secret kisses, long moments, out of sight of others, touches they would have liked to make last and stares … Good god, the stares they exchanged.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The truth is, Martin has a long history with Johannes, even though he's never quite ready to admit it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Stopping competitions also meant stopping seeing him. They both knew it, they argued a little too often about it, about everything around that topic. But it had to happen. It was at these times that he really felt the five years difference between them. It was a gap that didn't mean much. They didn't care when they competed against each other or when they slept together.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But when it was about their career, when it was about what they could or could not do, it would often bring out the worst of them. There were also the criticisms, the harsh criticisms, but Johannes didn’t understand. Didn't want him to leave, already. It was their biggest thunderstorm.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And everything has calmed down now.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Because they can't see each other anymore, so they don’t see each other. He tastes bitter in his mouth at the thought. He is about to turn on his heels, not knowing what he wanted when he came here.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Martin ?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He takes a deep breath. He resists everything he feels deep inside. If he listened to himself, he would pounce on him, he missed him, for sure.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What are you doing here ?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I was walking around.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Johannes doesn't seem convinced, but a smile lights up his features. At least that's what he thinks because he can’t know. The masks prevent him from having the vision he would like of the face of the one in front of him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I guess…” the Norwegian shakes his head “Follow me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The youngest one grabs his wrist and pulls him inside the buildings. Until a room that he quickly unlocks and closes behind them. A sort of locker room. A moment of intimacy just for them, it's been a long time …</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Did you want to see me that much ?” he asks, playful.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“He says while he was wandering on the Norwegian side.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Technically, I don't belong to any team anymore. I can walk wherever I want.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Johannes takes out his mask, he does the same, and comes close enough to rest his head against his shoulder, taking a deep breath. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I missed you.” the Norwegian admits, although the sound comes out muffled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Martin doesn't hesitate any longer and wraps his arms around his … former lover ? What are they basically ? They had something, they were something. But can he really say that today ? At the moment ?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know, you too.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you want … do we have time …”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What do you want, Jo’ ? Tell me, sweetheart ?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He lets out a shaking breath. It shouldn't surprise him that much, but still. He feels his last resistance crumble like a house of cards. His apprehension, his lucidity. His control. Everything’s disappearing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Johannes.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He pulls back slightly to capture the lips of his former opponent. He seems to cling to him more, as if in desperate need of him. The exchange becomes even more passionate, he slips a leg between those of the youngest one who lets out a strangled sound.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Damn … I don't think I can resist it … Do you have what we need ?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No but I don't care, please …”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Martin sets Johannes down on the bench in the room, eagerly removing his clothes and watching the one beneath him doing the same. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Luckily the room is heated.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We've seen a lot worse.” the biathlete sneers before pulling him back to him quickly to kiss him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He maps with the tips of his fingers and lips this body that has so often been his. That he could claim to be his. He missed it so much … he missed it all. He has missed Johannes so, so much. Everything about their relationship. Not being able to see him again for so long has been torture.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Martin, ah … I don't think we have time …”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmh ?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hurry up !”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Quite impatient, today ?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you know the time that I wait … that I waited. I've been waiting for you, it's been too long.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He doesn't answer this time and just smiles. He marks the skin on the torso, shoulders, he takes care not to leave any visible trace. He's always been very good at doing it. They did it so often. They had to play, often, both. Very good rivals, but nothing more. In the eyes of others.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I hope you locked the door properly, Jo ?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why ? It would remind you of memories ?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You've gained confidence in the meantime, I thought you missed me ?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Mmh,” Johannes, sprawled beneath him, opens one of his two breathtaking blue eyes, he never gets tired of seeing those orbs up close, his cheeks flushed “Maybe ?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He presents his fingers to his lover who doesn't need to be asked to lick them, slowly, wrapping his tongue around it, and, hell, how long has it been since he's been so turned on by a simple gesture ?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Norwegian has always been beautiful and tempting. Like a forbidden fruit. He never believed his fantasies could be more than that, until his rival showed up at his door with a flirtatious air. Until they were both undressing each other. He was not sober, neither of them were, the awakening, naked by his side, had been surprising. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He leans down slightly, placing light kisses on his cock as he inserts a first finger. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Relax.” he whispers, because he's impatient but doesn't want to hurt his partner.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Easier to-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>More expressive than usual, than before ? Martin has Johannes' member fully in his mouth and tries to focus enough for a second finger. It's not his fault that the youngest is particularly entertaining. He always has been and rediscovering it is a pure blessing. His face decomposed, already lost in an ocean of pleasure.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Norwegian is so tight. Hasn't he had anyone since him ? He feels a wave of hope take hold of him, rise in his chest. He doesn't know if it's a good thing, he doesn't believe it's a good thing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He adds a third finger and initiates light back and forth movements, under him, Johannes screams and he feels victorious, he still knows him as well, he has not forgotten his body and its smallest details.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jo’, I'm going-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His lover puts a hand on his cheek and pulls him back to him to kiss him languidly, again. He drowns in his eyes, veiled by pleasure.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I'm ready,” his voice is hoarse. “Fuck me, Martin, please.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fuck.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He is not in control of his actions, not totally. He cannot be. He sinks into the Norwegian slowly, feeling how tightly his flesh is around him. He's cautious, despite everything, despite how much he would like to hurry. He wants to feel him, he wants to feel him against him, as if they are one. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With a last flexible move with his hip, he arrives at the end. He waits a moment, to let his old opponent get used to him. He expects, he waits for a gesture from him, a conversation, a look.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“M-Martin …”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>One word. A name.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He begins his thrusts. He is short of breath, reduced to few if any words. It's crazy, he feels like he's losing his mind. Is it because it’s been a while ? Johannes's hands are on his back, he feels his fingernails dig into his skin, in a delirious attempt to cling to reality. It's almost too much.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He feels his mate letting go under him every time he hits that particular spot. They hear nothing from the outside, the only sound is that of their skins slamming against each other, obscene. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His vision is blurring from minute to minute. Johannes claims his mouth, again and again, he feels their lips red and swollen with kisses, moans, languor. They don't deny each other anything. They don't want to deny themselves anything.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His Norwegian comes between them, with a cry that he doesn’t restrain and, feeling the flesh tightening around him, Martin can’t help following him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Out of breath, seeking their breath, they break apart but he can't stop himself from keeping an arm around the biathlete, wanting to keep him a little longer with him. They can't go their separate ways now, not after waiting to be together for so long.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Damn, I … are you going to be ok like this when you still have to race ?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I've … I've done worse before. We have already done much worse. Do you remember ?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Johannes looks so … sweet. A little tired, a spark of tenderness shining in his eyes. He draws him to him to kiss him again. He needs it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They get dressed, one next to the other, on the same bench where they slept together a short time ago. He is already wondering how to justify his absence, what he will tell to the others, then he begins to think about when they will have to leave each other, where he will have to return. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He nervously smooths the folds of his clothes, trying to make himself look presentable. Even if may it be for his lover or for him, their dumbfounded looks, their cheeks and their red lips seem to speak for them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They can blame it on the cold.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They can find solutions.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They both always found solutions, to everything, to each of their problems, of their needs. To sneak out of their hotels, to see each other on the sly, between races, before races, after races, after the podiums, in a rest session … </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Johannes grabs his hand. Hands tied, on a bench, sitting next to each other, they don't know what to say to each other. Martin suddenly feels very young. He feels back in his adolescence, in his past days. His Norwegian always has this effect on him. His heart is beating so hard in his chest, ready to explode. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Then the youngest one rests his head against his shoulder. They close their eyes. A moment of calm in the midst of everything. A moment just for them, their silence. Because sometimes there isn't always a need for words.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They've had all this time together, they've had so many moments. There are a lot of thanks and feelings in the air. It's so calm. Everyone is probably swarming around them, preparing for the events of this afternoon and they stand there, agreeing for a moment.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You didn't even make me favorite for your forecasts.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You seem to have a little trouble winning since I'm no longer here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Stung pride ? Johannes pulls back to look into his eyes, a pout on his face. Childish, sometimes, competitive, always.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I try to be impartial while making my forecast, otherwise your name will come up a little too often.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He stands up, extending his hand to the biathlete to help him. The latter grabs it and they find themselves facing each other. They never seem to want to let go, to leave each other, to break this moment. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I think it's going to be time …” he whispers, he doesn't dare raise his voice.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They don't move any more.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you going home ?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I'll have to, yes.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Then …” Johannes shakes his head, determined “Then come to my room. Wait for me there.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Norwegian moves away to go dig into a bag he hasn’t noticed at first and take out an object clasped in his fist which he then shoves in his hands. It's a key. Oh.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Johannes, that’s not a good idea …”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Martin.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Both hands of the younger are on his cheeks, imploring, pleading. And above all, he remembers all those moments, all those memories together. He remembers the void and he remembers the absence. He remembers the lack, that sweet fire in his chest … </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Please.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And Martin was never very good at resisting Johannes.</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>well uh ... I wrote it rather quicker than what I thought but anyway ... I always thought this fandom was missing of at least one story about both of them together so ... I made it. Hope you liked it :)</p><p>tumblr : laeana</p></blockquote></div></div>
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